Why Clocks Are Round
by Azadrie
Summary: Reincarnation fic. In his dreams he remembers a time when the Hunt scoured the land, a time when the Magical races fled before the might of Muggle kind. A time when all those who practiced the ancient traditions fled before the sworn champions of a new young god. Considering all that, he is rather glad that his relatives are so insistent that Magic isn't real.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Reincarnation fic. In his dreams he remembers a time when the Hunt scoured the land, a time when the Magical races fled before the might of Muggle kind. A time when all those who practiced the ancient traditions fled before the sworn champions of a new young god. Considering all that, he is rather glad that his relatives are so insistent that Magic isn't real.

**Warning: **Non-graphic mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse/neglect

**Why Clocks Are Round**

**By Azadrie**

Based on and inspired by the works of J.K Rowling and various fan-fiction authors. No profit is being made.

Tile quoted from 'Red vs Blue'

**Ch1: Dream of a dream**

-"It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream." -Edgar Allan Poe -

_ Darkness. Trees flying past. Stumbling, falling over roots that seemed determined he shouldn't rise. A woman screamed for mercy. Tree branches reached for him, tried to block his way. Light flared ahead in the clearing at the edge of town. A column of smoke rose high into the sky. Laughter, cruel laughter, floated past mixing with the agonized screams. He froze at the edge of the wood. There stood the woman he had been searching for chained to the tree that had grounded her magic for longer than he had been alive, both of them wreathed in flames. His eyes couldn't leave her form even as the menacing figures around her took note of his presence and began to stalk toward him. A tree finally managed to bend near enough to grasp him and pulled him away, obeying the last command of its dying mistress. Green light filled his eyes as cruel laughter and agonized screams mixed in the wind…_

…and he awoke, choking down his own sobs, desperately trying to quiet his breath as he stared fearfully at the ceiling. _ Did they hear? Did they wake?_ Silence greeted his ears as he finally calmed.

After several long moments of quite he released a shaky sigh of relief and turned to dig his journal out from the furthest nook back beneath the stairs, where his uncle and cousin couldn't reach and his aunt never bothered to look. This wasn't quite a new dream, he had dreamt it several times before, but he still needed to record the fact that it had come again as well as the few new details that he had noticed. For example, he had never noticed before that the trees were pulling him _away_ from danger, nor that he knew the woman tied to the burning willow had commanded it.

Finished with his entry he took a moment to skim back through the journal and bask in the images they called up. His dream world could be as bad as or worse than the real world he actually lived in, but, overall, it was a haven in comparison. In the Dream world there were entire _years_ of happiness in between the times of pain, hardness, and betrayal; while in the real world he was lucky if he managed to find individual moments. It was his dearest wish to leave behind this life for the one he dreamt of, where he escaped the forest where the woman burned to find sanctuary and friendship in a little village hidden away in the same forest that so determinedly protected him. _That life_ might have ended in a betrayal so horrible he couldn't bear to continue living, but it was still a more worthy and fulfilling life than the slavery he currently endured.

He looked up as quiet movements sounded above him, and quickly moved to conceal his journal once again, dismissing the fairy light he had summoned as he did so.

Approximately 2 years latter

He pumped he fist in the air silently as he finally managed to pick the cupboard lock. A rare happy smile stretched over his face as he paused to listen for his relatives, before he moved slipping the willow and elm 'lock pick' into his waistband as he did so. He wasn't willing to risk losing the little woven twigs, it had taken him most of a year to even find twigs that were awake enough to respond to his request for help, and even longer than that for him to figure out how to bend his magic to guide them in opening the lock.

He had to keep himself from dancing or jumping or something equally ridiculous as he crept quietly into the kitchen to raid the pantry for less noticeable foods. This was the fourth of the little magics he had managed to complete, quite an accomplishment for a ten year old even if he couldn't quite remember what order they were supposed to be completed in. First he had managed to summon a little fairy light that would follow him around, then to direct a small breeze and mold a stone, and now he could direct a waking twig.

Hearing a noise he eased the pantry closed again and retreated to his cupboard, managing to lock it again after just a few tries. Still grinning with the successful glow of accomplishment he carefully stored his raided food and slipped back down into Dream.

Approximately 1 year latter 

Back in the cupboard after finishing his tasks for the day, he stared down at the letter apprehensively, running his eyes over the elegant script over and over again.

Harry Potter

Cupboard Under The Stairs

4 Privet Drive, Surry

Harry was what his relatives called him whenever there were guests over, or on the rare occasions that they were forced to take him with them when they left the house. It was also the name he was ordered to answer with if anyone ever asked for it for any reason. But… this letter was not the sort of thing that he would expect to be addressed to Harry Potter. For one, Harry Potter didn't receive _any_ mail, for second, this letter looked like something straight out of Dream; written on parchment rather than paper, with no postage and a super detailed address in beautiful calligraphy.

He stroked the letter gently with wondering finger tips, before lifting the letter and opening it with just as much care, half worried that it would disappear back into Dream if he handled it too harshly. The crisp pages were lifted almost reverently from the envelope, which was set gently aside. Leaf green eyes flitted across the page before widening and repeating the journey. _Hogwarts… that sounds so familiar, like a dream of Dream. Did I know it then?_ He continued to the other pages contained in the envelope, a more personal letter promising that someone would be by to pick him up for a shopping trip in a few weeks, a train ticket for September 1 at Platform 9 ¾ , a list of necessary school supplies. That was it, no further explanation, no mention of where this school was, though the ticket suggested that it would be reached by train. The letter about the shopping trip mentioned a Diagon Ally, and he presumed that the guide Professor McGonagall promised would know where to go.

_The biggest problem though…_ He glanced at the ceiling, where his relatives lay sleeping above him, then down again at the papers spread out around him. He had tried once before to run away and find Dream, the kindly officer who had picked him up and brought him back had explained that he needed his Aunt and Uncle's permission for such a trip until he turned 18, his Uncle on the other hand had threatened to kill him if he did that again and proceeded to beat him until he passed out. He glanced back down at the letters. _I've thought it before and I still think it, it would be worth dying to live that life. So, I've got to either run away or convince Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to let me go, and since that guide is coming here…_ He glanced up at the ceiling again then pushed his face flat against the floor, trying to judge how bright it was outside the cupboard, seeing nothing, he then pushed an ear against the wall to see if he could hear any movement. Convinced that it was safe for the moment to slip out into the house, he pulled out his lock pick and slipped it through the crack in the door jam. A moment later he had made it to the office, gabbed a single sheet of stationary and a pen and settled back in the cupboard, where he set about writing a letter to the Deputy Headmistress.

**Deputy Headmistress McGonagall**

**Thank you for your letter. I would love to attend Hogwarts School, however I don't know how to convince my Aunt and Uncle that magic is real so that they would allow me to. Do you know any way that I could convince them?**

**Sincerely,**

**Harry Potter**

He looked over the letter a few times, trying to see if there was anything he needed to add. It didn't sound quite right, not as formal as the letters he vaguely remembered from Dream, but those were in a different language and he didn't know how he could make _this_ letter any better. Deciding that it was good enough, it explained the problem and stated his opinion on the matter, he grabbed a string from his stash and headed outside. It was only as he gently closed the back door behind him that he realized that he didn't know where to find an owl. If one had brought the letter this morning then surely it was gone by now. He hesitated a moment, cursing his own stupidity, before deciding to just give it a go and see if the owl had hung around for a reply.

Decided, he glanced nervously at the second floor of the house behind him to check for open windows then whistled lowly. A moment later, to his immense relief an owl glided silently into the yard and landed on a post. He quickly rolled the letter and tied it to the owl's leg, "To Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, please, at Hogwarts." The owl hooted once then took off, he watched till the bird faded into the night.

_ I guess this means I have to start thinking of myself as Harry now_, he pondered as he made his way carefully back to bed, _I can't be Salazar anymore._


	2. Chapter 2

**Ch2: Home long forgotten**

-"I always felt like I was meant to have been born in another era, another time." –Johnny Depp-

Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of the Hogwarts House of Gryffindor, was just sitting down to breakfast in the Great Hall at the aforementioned school when she received what she, as well as the rest of the staff, would latter refer to simply as the Letter. On that particular day, just over a month before the start of term, only the Headmaster and the four Heads of House were actually present at the school, the rest of the students and staff still being off enjoying their summer break or avoiding the vigorous summer cleaning the school was being subjected to by its house elves. Though one other member of the staff, Rubeus Hagrid, was actually present on the grounds he was busy with a similar inspection and upkeep of the grounds and thus had chosen to partake of his breakfast in his own little cottage near the forest rather than make the trek up to the nearly empty school.

Thus so it was that the four Heads of House and their Headmaster were engaged in their own particular brand of small talk while they served themselves breakfast, enjoying a relatively calm morning before they parted to attend their various duties when an owl glided into the Hall and landed in front of the Deputy Headmistress. Now this could not be considered an unusual occurrence, breakfast was in fact the traditional time for mail to be delivered at Hogwarts, and aside from her own personal correspondence Professor McGonagall was in charge of the majority of the school's mail. So when she untied the letter and fed the owl a treat, taking note as she did of the unusual method by which the letter was fastened to its carrier, she only intended to check to see if it was an official or personal note before setting it aside and returning to her meal.

A quick scan of the Letter put an end to that notion rather quickly. "Albus," she called rather sharply attracting the attention of her four colleges.

"Yes, Minerva, is there a problem?"

Several hours latter

On that particularly lazy summer afternoon in Surry, England those residents who had not taken themselves off for a vacation with the family, or a day at the pool, or some other such entertainment, could be found, for the most part, resting inside their cool homes sipping on cool beverages in front of the telly, or various other lazy pastimes that kept them well indoors out of the summer heat. Excepting, of course, for the youngest resident of number 4 Privet Drive, who could be found tending the garden in front of that home, having been informed that he would not be allowed back into the house, nor allowed a drink of water, until he was completely finished.

This peaceful scene was rather rudely interrupted by a loud crack, much similar to a backfiring car or the shot of a gun. After a moment, when nothing else happened, those residents who had noticed the sound shrugged and returned to their amusements. They, for the most part, completely missed the sight of a smartly dressed man striding down the sidewalk, seeming to follow a Tabby cat that stopped at each corner to, apparently, check the road signs. As the pair finally found the road they were looking for and strode up to number 4, the young boy in front of that house was the only one on the street who even noticed their presence. When they reached the side walk in front of the house the both of them stopped for a moment to blink at the young boy in confusion, who kept a wary eye on them but didn't stop his work, before the man stepped forward up to the boy while the cat made herself comfortable on a wall to watch the encounter.

The man came to a stop a few steps away from the boy who threw nervous glances at him as he continued working. The man paused a moment to take in the sight in front of him, a small child who didn't seem to have much more than skin on his bones and was diligently toiling away in the hot afternoon sun, then he spoke, "Boy, is this the Dursley residence?"

"Yes, sir," the child replied quickly, glancing at the man again though not meeting his eyes.

"And might I find one Harry Potter here?"

"Yes, sir, I'm Harry, Sir."

"Is that so?" He murmured his face held carefully neutral. "In that case, my name is Severus Snape; I am here to speak to your Aunt and Uncle about your attendance at Hogwarts this term."

This caused the young boy to finally look up in surprise, giving Severus the first view of his face, which broke out into a brilliant smile when he realized that Severus was serious, though his eyes never drifted higher than the man's chest. "Thank you, sir! Uncle Vernon is out, but Aunt Petunia is inside," he offered happily.

Severus raised a single brow, and then nodded. "Very well then, come along, Potter." He turned abruptly and strode up to the front door giving two sharp knocks to the wooden frame.

When the door opened Petunia stared for a moment before scowling, "What are you doing here! Get in, hurry! Before someone sees!"

Silence fell on the street once more as the door snapped shut behind them. The cat was gone, having slipped inside the house while the Aunt was distracted with her unexpected visitor, who had pulled the young boy in after him despite her protests. A few minutes later muffled yelling could be heard on the street. Silence fell once again. Then the door opened again and the man, the boy and a strange lady who had not previously been seen on the street emerged. The three strode quickly down the walk, the young boy jogging a little to keep up with his elders, and soon disappeared from sight. There was a loud crack, reminiscent of a backfiring car or the shot of a gun. Then the street fell quiet once more.

* * *

The door closed behind the kind yet rather domineering Mediwitch leaving him alone in the infirmary, and Salazar took a moment to look around, finally able to let himself relax into half-forgotten memories. It was hard to remember his life as Sal from after his current age, and he most definitely hadn't seen or heard of this castle at the beginning of his eleventh year, so the memories were sitting there at the edge of his mind, vague and undefined. It felt like home, though. The silence was heavy and strange beside half formed memories of crowded bustling corridors, and the furniture was of a modern build that would not have been present back then, but it still felt like a much beloved home.

Lost in memory as he was, he started badly when Madam Pomfrey opened the door to her office and emerged with a stranger who he hadn't met yet, one who was dressed in the same kind of white and blue uniform that the Mediwitch was wearing.

"Hello, young man," the stranger greeted him jovially as he took a seat next to Sal's bed side, "I'm Healer Willard, what's your name?" He asked with a bright smile.

Sal smiled hesitantly back, keeping his eyes focused on the man's chest as he was unsure if this was one of those adults that preferred eye contact or not. "I'm Harry, Sir."

"Alright, Harry, I need to check to see if you're hurt, will you let me do that? All I'm going to do at the moment is cast a few diagnostic spells, you won't feel a thing, I promise." He paused a moment, waiting for Sal's hesitant nod, before continuing. "Thank you, young man. Alright, first I need you to lie back on the bed, so I can get the most accurate readings. These things can get pretty hard to read if you're curled up in an odd position. There you go, that's perfect. Now just stay still a moment."

Harry blinked as the Healer began flicking his wand through an intricate pattern while chanting a rather familiar healing prayer. The words were almost identical to chant that the Glen Healer from Sal's time used, and it was in the same language, so he wasn't entirely surprised when an intricate and colorful web of light began forming just above him. The Glen Healer would have gotten a shifting cloud of light specs, rather than this ever shifting web, but the effect wasn't entirely foreign, and it reassured the anxious boy that he was indeed back in the world that Sal was most familiar with. The resulting calm was reflected on the web of light above him, as several formally taunt yellow strands turned green and began making lazy spirals.

The healer chuckled a little and smiled gently at the lad, "beautiful, isn't it? Want me to tell you what it means?" At Harry's shy nod his smile brightened and he continued, "Those green swirls that just showed up? Those show relaxed muscles. And this sparkly blue bit, that's your lungs, sparkly blue means you're getting just the right amount of air. Not too little, or too much. And over here…" The explanation continued touching on several of the different patterns that made up the web, until he finally began hitting on some problems, "Pink means a healthy bone, this particular shade of pink means you're still growing, when that's done it'll change to more of an orange-ish color. Now this bright pink here is an already healed break, muddy brown would mean the break wasn't healed yet. How did that happen anyway?"

"I fell down the stairs," Harry answered, more focused on the lights than on what he was saying, "Is that why it looks kind of unraveled?"

"Sort of, that 'unraveled' pattern means that it didn't set right, I suppose that you didn't get to see a doctor to get it set?"

He shook his head, then paused a moment glancing shyly at the healer out of the corner of his eye, "I set it myself."

"Really?" Willard was rather glad that he had been forewarned of the child's situation, else he wouldn't have been able to contain his reaction to this idea. "You did a wonderful job; that must have hurt a lot. I can straighten it out the rest of the way in a little while, if you want, that way it's a bit stronger and less likely to break again. Don't worry, kind of feels weird, but it doesn't actually hurt."

They continued, the Healer slowly drawing out the stories behind each injury, some of them Harry refused to talk about entirely, but over the course of the evaluation Healer Willard slowly gathered more and more detail about each incident. It helped a great deal that the Healer was so much like Sal's sister, calm, unruffled by everything, and very skilled in the Healing Arts. More than once during the evaluation Sal found himself wishing that he could remember his sister's face or her name, since all he could recall was her copper hair and calm personality.

Eventually, the evaluation came to an end, as the Healer finished cataloging all of Harry's injuries, and the explanations of how he got them, fixed a few of the easier problems and prescribed a regimen to fix the rest. Thus Harry soon found himself presented with a light meal and nutrient potion with the instructions to drink all of the potion and eat however much of the meal as he could, then to try and take a nap if he could as he needed his rest to help him recover.

* * *

_"Sal! Come, look! We're finally here!" He pushed forward, his mount moving easily beneath him, to catch up to his best friend who had stopped at the top of the slope. He didn't even try to contain his triumphant laugh when he came up beside his friend; a valley spread out below them mostly covered with either a vast lock or a sprawling forest, a few clear patches dotted the valley where rocky spires leapt up towards the sky, the old remains of an ancient mountain range no doubt, fallen down beneath the younger peaks. _

_ "There it is, Sal! We were right!" Ric yelled again, even though he had already pulled up beside the other man. "_Lthair cruinnithe," _he murmured as they gazed down at the small circle of standing stones in the center of the valley, "The Druid's Circle. We'll have to put up some walls, it will keep the rain out and that way even if they manage to get through the wards we'll have a defensible spot. Plenty of water in that lake after all, so all we'd have to worry about is food." He urged his horse on down the slope as he continued his excited planning. _

_ Sal grinned at his friend enthusiasm, "We should check to see if anyone else is living here first, those woods are exactly the sort of place that Wolf-folk tend to make their packs, and if there aren't any Goblins in these mountains then I'll eat your hat."_

_ "My hat! Eat your own hat!"_

_ "Oh, come on, you stupid lion, you know very well that I'm not eating anyone's hat." _

Harry opened his eyes, still laughing at the friendly banter and joyous relief that had permeated his dream, and rolled over to grab his journal. He wasn't sure what the dream had been about, or who the other man had been, and the details where already beginning to fade, but it had been a wonderful dream in any case. A perfect complement to how his life was going at the moment. He was here at Hogwarts, it felt like home, and even better Healer Willard had told him that he would never have to go back to the Dursleys', _ever_. Life was wonderful.

"Awake are you?" Harry jumped a little glancing up at the Professor in the doorway and back down at his journal again.

"Yes, sir."

The Professor looked at him for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face, then came slowly into the room and placed a bundle of cloth on the end of his hospital bed, "Has Madam Pomfrey checked you out this morning?"

"No, Sir."

Harry watched as the Professor crossed the room to the door of Madam Pomfrey's office in silence, and endured the Mediwitch's fussing timidly, mostly just by hunkering down and waiting for it to end. He missed entirely the brief glance the two adults shared over his head.

Once he was dressed and out of the hospital wing he cheered up immensely, happily taking note in his head of a few shortcuts he knew that would have taken them to the great hall much more quickly. It was understandable that the Professor wouldn't want to take some of them though, one for example was a slide that actually let out on the seventh floor, five floors up from here, right next to a hidden staircase that spiraled down about half a floor to an audience chamber of the Great Hall on the first floor. There were feelings of bafflement and hilarity associated with that path, but there wasn't a clear memory of why.

Harry jolted out of his musings only when they reached the Great Hall and Professor Snape led him inside. Most of the other Professors were already there eating breakfast and a few of them looked up when the door opened. Harry stayed close to Professor Snape and kept his eyes on the floor, after all just because _this_ adult was nice didn't mean that the others would be, though in his experience magical adults where much more likely to be kind than muggle ones.

The meal went well in his opinion, on first impression the adults seemed just as nice as he could expect for a group of magicals, and the food was both good and plentiful. He did come across a rather mysterious comment though from a lady that the other's called Septima to Professor Snape about how many of his Slytherins would be in her class, which was rather confusing considering his Dream, and prompted the first question he ever asked in the presence of any of the Hogwarts staff.

He had waited until the Professor had turned away from the conversation, which was not all that long as Snape was not the most social person, before looking up at him and asking, "Sir?"

Severus looked down at the boy with a raised brow, not only had the child address him unprompted, but he was also almost meeting his eyes! "Yes, child?"

Harry's eyes flickered nervously for a second; he was sure that he was right about how nice the magical adults were, but the consequences would be very painful if he was wrong; before settling back on the professor's face, "What does that mean, sir? Your Slytherins?"

"Hogwarts students are divided up into four houses. Each house has its own dormitory, common room, and attends class at the same time. Slytherin is one of those houses, and the one I supervise."

Harry considered this for a moment before asking, "How did it get that name?"

The small approving smile that momentarily graced the man's face was all the proof Harry needed that his assessment of the professor was indeed correct. Though the answer to his question quickly took priority over such thoughts, as he learned for the first time that the life that he remembered in dreams had happened more than a thousand years ago, and that he had helped to found a school then had promptly been thrown out for fighting with his best friend. Or possibly for going bad. Or practicing Dark Magic. Or for slaughtering Muggles. The professors all seemed to have a different opinion on the matter.

* * *

Over the next month his school things were bought and retrieved from Hogsmead and Diagon Ally. The Diagon trip had only been for money and wand, an experience all to itself, as the rest of his materials were available in Hogsmead. Wands he discovered on that trip, were rather uncomfortable and restricting, and they didn't seem to like him either. The wand maker had been ecstatic over the matter, and had only become happier when Harry had questioned how a dead wood, like the length of holly that they finally settled on, was supposed to channel magic. Ollivander had immediately pulled the young man back to his work room and had him talk to the various live woods he had back there until he had found one that he could get along with. It surprised him not at all when a length of Elm replied politely to his overtures, after all he had already been working with an Elm twig for years.

He still wasn't sure exactly why he needed a wand, he had been using magic both as Sal and as Harry for years now without one. Not to mention that the wand felt rather claustrophobic with the way that it pulled against his magic.

In any case, the shopping got done, and he even managed to get himself an extra journal and some candles so that he could practice summoning a flame. Which he practiced over the next month when he returned to the guest quarters each night just before he fell asleep. The daytime hours for the next month were dedicated to learning all those things that a young wizard needed to know about his world, everything from writing with a quill to wizarding etiquette to what to do if he got lost.

He also spent time talking to various Ministry people, who were handling the case against the Dursleys and looking for a new family for him. He had several cousins apparently, as well as god parents, but the same problems that had prevented his original placement were still in effect for the most part. The most eligible family seemed to be the Malfoys, his second cousins, but Headmaster Dumbledore apparently didn't like them so there was a big argument going on about that. The next most eligible family was the Longbottoms, his Godmother's family, but apparently there were various confusing legal things that were preventing that one as well.

* * *

A pair of blue eyes did another sweep of the station searching for a familiar aura among the crowd. The blond haired boy glanced to the side as a young girl came up to the window beside him.

"Any luck?"

"No." He shook his head, "I don't see Rena, either."

"Do you think something might have gone wrong?"

He glanced over at her with a reassuring smile, "No, Rena probably just missed the cut off date, I bet she'll be here next year."

She made a sharp negative gesture, "Sal, Ric, what about Sal, you don't think that he might not have been caught by the ritual?"

Ric shook his head, "He was, the ritual worked perfectly." He griped her shoulder and finally turned away from the window, "I'm more worried about the interference we hit on this end."

"What do you mean?"

"We shouldn't be able to remember our previous lives, Ella, which means someone tried to summon one of us. It didn't work, or at least I'm pretty sure it didn't since we were born, but…"

"Who knows what other effects that would have."

"Exactly."

Eventually the train was loaded, and they set off. The ride itself was rather cheerful, they warded the compartment so that wouldn't have to worry about someone walking in on them while they were being themselves. They hadn't had a chance to really talk about their plans over the last few years, since it seemed like they only managed to meet up during parties and balls, neither of which would have worked for the kind of discussion they needed to have.

Their first view of Hogwarts in just over a thousand years, though they could only remember about a decade of that time, was truly inspiring, and the feel of the wards realigning was one of the most amazing things they had ever felt, especially since they could feel that the wards had already aligned on Sal, who was apparently already on the property.

Ric and El shared a glance between them but couldn't comment as they were in a boat with two other students at the time. This was perhaps the best news that they could have gotten, if Sal was here before them, that meant that he was probably one of the upper years, which meant that the ritual had probably worked as they intended it to, even though he hadn't been present and only been indirectly targeted. Though that did mean that he had a year or more on them, which could stir up any number of complications.

With these thoughts in mind, they were understandably surprised when the front doors of the castle opened to show Salazar standing next to a woman who their guide quickly identified as the Deputy Headmistress.

**_AN: _****Lthair cruinnithe – a place to meet or gather, according to a random online Gaelic Translator.**


End file.
